Keep Your Allies Close, But Your Enemies Closer
by Blind-2the-Eye
Summary: Nothing & No one is ever who they seem. Never judge a girl by her  cover right? What will it take for her to keep them all safe? Who's Dagger?  Who's Amy? What will the CoC do to get what they want? What DO they want? 1st  fan-fic. Zammie in later chps :
1. Sneak Peek

Title: **Keep Your Allies Close, But Your Enemies Closer**  
>Category: Books » Gallagher Girls<br>Author: Blind-2the-Eye  
>Language: English, Rating: Rated: T<br>Genre: Adventure/Romance  
>Published: 07-06-11, Updated: 07-27-11<br>Pages: 9 Words: 2,839

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><p><strong>Chapter: Sneak Peak<strong>

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><p><span>Song for the Chapter: E.T Katy Perry<span>

Disclaimer: I don't own. *Sigh* I wish I did, though.

Sneak Peak

~ * ~ * ~ * Running Towards * ~ * ~ * ~

Please don't look for me.

Please don't worry.

And, most of all, please don't think of this as me running away, but of me running towards.

Towards answers. Towards hope. Towards wherever I have to go to finish my father's mission and stop this thing, once and for all.

Zach was right.

A year ago he told me that someone knows what happened to my father. Someone knows why the Circle is chasing me.

And now…well…now I am going to sneak out of this mansion by myself one more time. Now I'm going to leave here, and spend this summer trying to find them. I'll be back. And when I am, I promise I'll have answers.

~ * ~ * ~ * Headmistress Morgan * ~ * ~ * ~

"No!"

~ * ~ * ~ * Fiery Summer Night * ~ * ~ * ~

"Where are you going?"

"I thought we were going to wonderful world of the wizard of oz?"

"Zach," I said sternly. "Trying to get me to relive memories from sophomore year isn't going to distract me. Nevertheless, convince me to let you come with me."

"Gallagher girl," He said mimicking me, "Trying to distract me with actually getting me to remember things from that year, isn't going to work either."

"Huh?"

He chuckled. "Besides," He grabbed my hand and intertwined my fingers with his, immediately sending a flock of  
>nervous butterflies to go into a frenzy inside my stomach.<p>

_Hush up! A good agent never gets compromised! Nonetheless, Emotionally compromised. On a mission!_

I mentally snapped at my stomach.

"I don't need your permission." He declared menacingly, and unknowingly interrupting my internal babble.

Then he slowly, but hesitantly stroked my cheek with the back of his other hand, as if I was as fragile as a glass doll. I couldn't stop myself from leaning into his warm, colossal hand, and closing my eyes at his sweet gesture.

Suddenly, as if my very reaction snapped something inside of him, he grabbed my face with both of his rough hands and kissed me.  
>My eyes popped opened in surprise, but only for a second though, because at the gentle touch of his lips, I couldn't help, but instantly throw my arms around his neck, tangle my hands into his hair, and close my eyes.<br>It was part of me, almost as if it were imprinted in my DNA, and I just didn't know it until I met him, kissed him, and only him.  
>It was almost an instinct.<p>

I also couldn't help all the memories that flooded my brain, and almost drowned my heart.

I certainly, couldn't help pouting when he finally pulled away.

And even though his voice was an octave deeper, and his breath was a little ragged, he didn't let that stop him from saying,  
>as sternly as possible…with a firmness that even I knew marked his next words as an ultimate, unspoken truth,<br>"I don't think you understand that . . . I'm going to tail you till the end of the Earth, if that's what it takes to have you in my arms like this, again."

I look down to his arms, stunned.  
>Weren't those holding my face a minute a go? And weren't we standing up? How did we get on to a bench?<br>And am I sitting in his lap? Oh my Gilly. . . _I'm too addicted to him to even notice this_, I thought, mentally scowling at myself.

I looked up from under my eyelashes, suddenly shy- even though I was pretty sure that he already knew that.  
>The color of my blush kind of . . . could have made a tomato wither in shame.<p>

What I saw in his eyes though . . . it, changed me.  
>There was so much emotion in them, that I couldn't help but hold his face between both my hands.<p>

So much emotion, that I . . . kissed him, again.  
>My grandma would have NOT been proud.<p>

But I did.

Nothing could have stopped me now.

It was rougher and harder.  
>He froze for a second, surprised.<br>But only a second though before he leaned against me, and wrapped his arms around my waist again.

And instantly, just like that, the fire between us, ignited again.  
>I tangled my hands in his hair as his lips roughly moved against mine.<br>I needed to feel him.  
>I needed his breath to dance with mine. I needed to feel the warmth and safety he brought. I needed him impossibly closer.<p>

And all of this was necessary, because of a tiny microscopic fact.  
>A fact so minuscule, but at the same time, so deadly.<p>

I was scared.

Scared for what would happen to me, to him, to my sisters.  
>Scared of the answers I would find.<br>I was scared of what he would risk, or do to find me.  
>I was scared for the dangerous he would get himself into; scared that he would get caught, or hurt.<p>

I needed him closer, I need him as much as I needed my answers, and I knew _this_ for a fact.

It was only him, me, and the moon, in the abandoned park that fiery summer night.  
>I loved him so much.<br>I needed him so much.  
>So much that I almost regretted doing this, feeling like that, because as the wind picked up again, and the breeze sang around us,<p>

I was already gone.

~ * ~ * ~ * Abby * ~ * ~ * ~

"She's dead."

And then, for the first time, Abigail Cameron, hung her head down in shame. She had failed. Mission incomplete. Hope lost.

She's gone.

~ * ~ * ~ * Gone * ~ * ~ * ~

That night I felt like I left many things behind. I left the safety of my school, my family, my sisters, my lover, myself, and one solemn tear in that harsh concrete floor.

Cammie Morgan was gone forever more.

~ * ~ * ~ * Bex * ~ * ~ * ~

"I'll never give up! It's not true!

All a bloody lie!"

~ * ~ * ~ * Explosive Meetings* ~ * ~ * ~

I couldn't see, hear or even think straight!  
>Sand tornados whorled around me and, the blinding search lights, of 17 different helicopters, burned my eyelids.<p>

I couldn't hear anything else besides the helicopter blades going around and round, taunting me, and telling me that they were getting closer.  
>Or the sound of bombs dropping and erupting all around me.<p>

It was so loud, that I could almost feel the blood dripping from my earlobes.

"Don't kill her, damn it!"

Then a gas bomb was released.  
>And as the purple smoke surrounded me like an evil spirit, and consumed me, it forced me to undergo a deep feeling of sleepiness.<p>

And the last thing I said was,  
>"Goodbye.<br>I'm sorry, but I promise in the name of Gillian Gallagher that I will not say a word.  
>I will honor her sword, and keep her secrets<p>

for all the days of my life."

~ * ~ * ~ * Macey * ~ * ~ * ~

She looked at everyone disbelievingly.  
>They were certainly all crazy.<p>

They were Gallagher Girls.

They were sisters.

It was impossible.

~ * ~ * ~ * New Forbidden Meetings* ~ * ~ * ~

Her eyes blinked several times before fully opening to the blinding light in the white room.  
>It was her third day here, but her first day of classes.<p>

The first thing she saw was a gorgeous pair of green eyes.

"Welcome to Firestone Academy,"  
>Were the first words she heard, and the very first thing she thought was . . .<br>"_why are those amazingly emerald eyes so. . . Empty?_"

~ * ~ * ~ * Liz * ~ * ~ * ~

"How? What? No! . . . Oh my . . . It's true."  
>She whispered brokenly.<p>

The matter of the fact, the point that scared everyone around her, is that her research never failed, never lied.

It was real.

It was true.

~ * ~ * ~ * The Beginning of the End * ~ * ~ * ~

"You imbecile! How dare you?" she shirked impatiently at her.

"Do you know who I am?  
>I'll eat you for breakfast in half a second!<br>If you can't even do a simple job like that, what are you doing here?"

She glared at her.  
>If looks could kill, the agent would have dropped dead already.<br>Her next few words were deadly calm, in a tone that immediately raised goose bumps in the other girl's arms.

"Get good or get dead. Now out of my sight before I take a bloody aim again!  
>And this Time I. Won't. Miss."<p>

She didn't have to keep going though, by the word "_out_" the agent scrambled off the floor, tripped again,  
>but eventually ran out silently.<p>

~ * ~ * ~ * Zach * ~ * ~ * ~

"Is that? No, it can't be . . .?  
>No! I just know, it isn't!<br>Because, if it is . . . . I swear if it is, I'm going to kill her with my own two hands."

~ * ~ * ~ * Lost Hope * ~ * ~ * ~

And the car . . . exploded into pieces.

~ * ~ * ~ * Dillon * ~ * ~ * ~

"We'll kill them all! First the rats and then . . . The girls."

"You're absolutely . . . Right, honey. Make them suffer." she said with a smirk.

~ * ~ * ~ * Incomprehensible Greetings * ~ * ~ * ~

"Run!"

"Wait— what?"

"Zachary Jared Goode, I need you to leave before-"

"How do you know-? Who are you? And why should I trust you?"

"You shouldn't," I whispered bluntly.  
>It was the truth; not only was I about to kill his only reason for existence, but I also let my confidence get the better of me, and because of that,<br>I lead him here, which immediately lead _him_ into danger.

Not that he knew any of that stuff, just yet anyways.

He shouldn't be talking, period.

My main goal was to get him out; his, should be to save her.  
>Didn't he see that they were both in danger?<br>That hundreds of Circle Agents were running at this very second, toward our direction?

But as tired as he must be, as exhausted he must have become to get here, as out of breath from running he was slowly turning into, and as desperate he must be getting to take that girl —practically his life, whom laid unconscious on his firm arms— out of here, he still managed to give me a deadly glare.  
>One in which said "If you don't answer me, I'll kill us both."<p>

A fake threat in my opinion, the young girl in his arms was too precious to loose.  
>And just as I was about to answer him, a shot rang out, and instantly grazed my upper arm.<br>"Shit!"

And even though I was in immense pain, I managed to point at myself, smirk, and say  
>"Spy."<p>

He raised his eyebrow and continued our argument.

I was really starting to doubt his clearance level if he couldn't manage to hear the soft, but firm foot steps of the enemy agents nearing,  
>and I was getting rather impatient with his constant questions.<br>And maybe, just maybe, it also had to do with the fact that I was in immense pain, and gushing out blood.  
>I just don't believe he recognized this, because he continued his interrogation.<p>

"Just tell me who you are!"

"Ouch!  
>Look, don't make me regret taking <em>her <em>out.  
>I know you love her!"<p>

The pleading look in my eyes must have said something,  
>because next thing I know I'm watching my family disappear once again from my life, into the night, and to tell you the truth . . .<p>

This time I was really happy about it.

~ * ~ * ~ * Dagger *~ * ~ *

"Do I kill her now, or later?"

~ * ~ * ~ * Magnificent Melodies* ~ * ~ * ~

"No way!"

"Damn! She's bloody good."

"Is she . . ? Are you sure. . ?"

"Yes, she's . . . our target."

~ * ~ * ~ * Mr. Vega* ~ * ~ * ~

"Dillion D Vega and Cameron Ann Morgan will seek my revenge!"

"Shut up!"

"She will kill you all!"

~ * ~ * ~ * Icy Hatred & Burning Hearts * ~ * ~ * ~

I saw her.

Face to face, eye to eye, mind to mind…Heart to heart?

No, never. My heart was gone.

So was hers.

The funny thing was . . .

That both of our hearts laid within the same person.

The same guy.

And I hated her for it.

So much.

I hated that he would always forgive her.  
>We are in the same side of the battle, the war, but when she goes back —because she will— he would forgive her.<br>He would believe her, unlike me.  
>I hated that he would always love her.<p>

I know, and it sucks that I can't ever do anything about it, but I know that he would always have a bigger spot for her in his heart than me.  
>Always love her more than me.<p>

Worst of all I hated that I would always love her too.

Her name was Amy.

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><p>Nothing and no one is always what they seem . . .<p>

Keep Your Allies Close, but Your Enemies Closer.


	2. Prologue

Title: **Keep Your Allies Close, But Your Enemies Closer**  
>Category: Books » Gallagher Girls<br>Author: Blind-2the-Eye  
>Language: English, Rating: Rated: T<br>Genre: Adventure/Romance  
>Published: 07-06-11, Updated: 07-27-11<br>Pages: 4, Words: 1,293

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><p><strong>Chapter: Prologue<strong>

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><p><span>Song of the Chapter: Unstoppable by Kat Deluna<span>

Disclaimer: Yea, I don't own this. It all belongs to the amazing Ally Carter, who may or may not be a spy herself. Oops, I mean Agent, or Covert Operative, or Homicidal Detective? Who knows what her cover is?

**Prologue**

She's Goode, But Who is She?

_Third Person Point of View_

"_Clack, clack, clack". _That was the unforgettable noise of her high heels, confronting the rough, concrete floor of the underground passage way to the main CoC base in England.

The repeated tapping of her boots echoed through the tunnel; it could be heard for miles.

It was humid down there, water droplets were slowly dripping from the ceiling. It was dark and obscure. The only thing that kept this woman from falling flat in her face —not that she would, she's a professional Covert Operative after all. The best in the business- were the old fashion lit torches (probably from back in the 1420's) that hanged on the wall, never the less they were 20.51 feet apart, and as a result, didn't help much.

Nobody else was there except for a few amorphous, gray spiders that clinged and claimed the ceilings of the tunnel. Once in a while, a hairy rat or two would run speedily across the floor, but she wouldn't even flinch, none the less stop, she just kept her steady, graceful pace down path.

This place suited her image well. Complimented her personality. A place were shadows surrounded her, engulfed her, and even danced with her. A place for shadows, and shadows within them. A Bat's sanctuary.

"_Clack, clack, clack," _They could hear the steady tapping of her shoes nearing the entrance, and even before she reached the door, the agents prepared for her arrival. One would say they were intimidated by her, but in reality most _feared _her. How she silkily moved with the shadows, disappearing and reappearing mysteriously, ready to kill anyone and everyone if she could -No. Not, _if she could_, because _she defiantly can_. I guess the right word here would be- _if she wanted to._ No one could understand how she came to the top so fast. No one judged though, no one said anything.

She would kill you.

"_Clack, clack, clack," _She was unforgettable. Face known everywhere. Her porcelain white skin, contrasted greatly with her dark enigmatic eyes, which always seem to grasp your attention. And even sometimes, scare the hell out of you in interrogations. She was very erudite though; very didactic and almost infallible.

She was tall and angular, fit for a spy. Her long tanned legs were covered by a formal black pencil skirt. She had on a flirty, silky, purple blouse with ruffles in the top, and it was neatly tucked under her skirt. The first three buttons were undone, for honey-potting people she tailed for information in the outskirts of town, of course. She had long, wavy hair which cascaded down her back; she had lighter shades in it, obviously engendered by being in the sun too much. She was obviously beautiful -she needed to look good, presentable, and today of all days, to make a lasting impression.

She hadn't been at this base since last summer- but with her emotionless face and nasty reputation, her beauty was almost unnoticed. I guess it was good in a way -her nasty reputation, I mean- she was the golden girl, the image of the CoC. What the CoC standed for. If the CoC was in the dictionary, under the words "Circle of Cavan —Dangerous Terrorist group who are motivated to kill anyone and everyone for money and power," would be a huge picture of her. She was dangerous and evil.

She was good.

Really Goode.

Her boots though, were the most important part of her attire. The most intriguing. She had on spiked, leather, stiletto boots that came about one inch under her knee. _"Clack, clack, clack," _They were important because they warned her fellow agents, when her arrival was near.

Her boots were scary. For many reasons. Rumors said that she killed five double agents, in 2 minutes and 25.7 seconds, with those exact shoes. Kind of farfetched right? No! Three words.

She. Was. CoC. Naturally, a cold hearted killing machine.

Even if you didn't believe that story, the hole in her office wall —next to the door— proved differently. She was in a dangerous mood. It was on a hot day of last summer. She wanted coffee. Black coffee. A new agent made a mistake, gave her de-café, and if it weren't bad enough, the agent spilled some on her new white couch, that was helplessly positioned next to the door.

And in less than 2.5 seconds, faster than a blink of an eye, her shoe was flying across the room, barely missing Cindy (Agent CO1125), the new girl's head, by 0.15 inches. If she hadn't flinched at the last second, that hole in the wall -clearly made by the spiked end- would have been in her head.

"You imbecile! How dare you?" she shirked impatiently at her. "Do you know who I am? I'll eat you for breakfast in half a second! If you can't even do a simple job like get coffee, what are you doing here?" She glared at her. If looks could kill, she would have dropped dead already. Her next few words were deadly calm, in a tone that immediately raised goose bumps in her arms.

"Get good or get dead. Now out of my sight before I take a bloody aim again!

And I. Won't. Miss." She didn't have to keep going though, by the word "_out_" the agent scrambled off the floor, tripped again but eventually ran out silently. Good thing though, because if she would have left without being dismissed, it would have been worse. That day she sent a nice and loud message to everyone in the base.

_Mess. With. Me. And. I. Will. Kill. You._

Besides her obvious beauty and patience, (or rather impatience) she was independent and strong.

She needed no one, and she didn't care.

She was tall and confident. She walked through the main entrance like she owned the place. Why wouldn't she feel like that though? She was the best in the field. An ex- Gallagher girl. Recruited at a very young age straight from the infamous academy. A retched academy, she would call it.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at her while she passed by. She walked confidently, shoulders back, eyes straight, head held high with a smirk. She practically ran things here at the base. But then again, she ran things everywhere. She was a natural leader and she was kind of second in command next to the Goode's.

And her name was Cameron Ann Morgan.


	3. Unseen History

Title: **Keep Your Allies Close, But Your Enemies Closer**  
>Category: Books » Gallagher Girls<br>Author: Blind-2the-Eye  
>Language: English, Rating: Rated: T<br>Genre: Adventure/Romance  
>Published: 07-06-11, Updated: 07-27-11<br>Pages: 11, Words: 3,805

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Unseen History<strong>

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><p><span>Song of the Chapter: Love the Way You Lie by Rihanna<span>

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Gallagher Girls it all rightfully belongs to Ally Carter.

**C**_h_**A**_p__**t**_**3**R **1**

Cameron Pov

_North side? Clear._

_East side? Clear._

_South side? Clear._

_West side? Clear._

_No tails. _

I checked my surroundings once, twice, even three times. _Alright, it's clear, _I thought to myself.

I steadily walked to the down the street, fast enough that I looked like I had somewhere I needed to go to, but not too fast that I looked even remotely suspicious. I didn't really think of this though. It was something I did subconsciously. Many years of training, I guess.

I pointedly looked at my watch, kind of emphasizing my point of being in a hurry. But in reality I didn't even need to glance at my watch to know the time, it wasn't something they though us in Firestone, but I somehow always knew the time of the day —everyday. Whatever it was, it came in handy.

All the time.

Today was my first day back to the Circle of Coven headquarters in England. It was a bright sunny day, one in which you knew that spring was coming. It was different− it felt different.

The sunlight illuminated my face as I walked down one of London's bridges.

As I got off, I saw a simple stand in the side of the street, and as a natural pavement artist, I went there.

The trick to being invisible and seemingly normal is not hiding, but blending. To any normal eye, I just looked like any normal, hungry tourist, spending a day out in London.

"Good morning fellow. How much is a 99?" I asked in a perfect British accent. I slowly leaned closer, looked under my eyelashes, and lightly placed my hand under my chin. Flirting for free stuff never hurt anyone. He slowly looked up from his newspaper to look at me. In less than a nano second he was of his chair —almost falling off of it in the process—, standing straight, and running a hand trough his hair.

I internally rolled my eyes.

_Pathetic._

I kept my sweet smile on though.

He didn't look too bad. Brown shaggy hair, 5 foot 10inches, fair skinned, blue eyes that might actually look nice if he took off the thick glasses he was wearing, and was 17 years of age. Probably working to gather up money for collage.

_Trying to achieve his dreams, awe poor civilian_, I thought internally rolled my eyes. He doesn't even know what life IS really about.

_"Err . . ._ morning!" he said as he slightly tipped his hat, "A 99 you say? Well for you Miss . . . that will be . . ." he hurriedly opened his cart and handed me one with a napkin. "Absolutely nothing. I hope you have a good day." I quickly flashed my million—dollar—watt—smile, took it, and left. If you ever get a change to visit England, ask for a 99. You will get a cone filled with soft ice cream and a Cadbury's _flake_ - a long crumbly stick of chocolate. My favorite.

It was almost as pleasuring as the, "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" sound behind me, that the young lad had made, and the sound of his wheels —and his cart— roll down the street and crash into a fruit stand. Making both fall. I placed my hand on my mouth, and let out a giggle. So, _naïve. _Next time that boy shouldn't put a stub to hold still his cart.

Through the reflection of a nearby mirror (It said "Sheryl's Stop and Shop" Monday — Friday: 7am-9pm Saturday: 9am- 9pm. Sunday: Closed all day) I could see that he was furiously twisting his head from side to side, looking for me.

But I was already gone.

I know that was kind of mean, but what do you expect? I'm a top Circle of Coven agent. And plus I could have leaned closer, moving the cart to a 15 degree angle to right, so when I removed the stub it would have rolled to the to the small bond fire across the street, making it catch into flames. Or I could have poured the small bottle of liquid nitrogen that I had in my purse, causing his whole cart -maybe his legs and arms as well- to literally freeze into place.

But I was kind of in a hurry, and spies in general, shouldn't gather too much attention. It could ruin our cover.

As I got closer to the north end of the Palace of Westminster in London, I could see clearly my destination. It was the third tallest free-standing clock in the world, the fourth largest chiming-clock and more than 150 years old. Tall, old, and historic the Big Ben is one of the most intriguing and amazing buildings in England.

It was also where one of the biggest Circle bases in England was located.

**Very, Very, Important Facts about the Circle of Coven**

**That You Should Never, Ever Forget.**

1. The Circle of Coven was one of the smartest organizations I knew about.

You couldn't destroy this base without destroying Big Ben, so if they CIA or MI6 ever found out about it, they couldn't do anything. Well not at least without destroying the large artifact as well, and I really doubt that,_ that_ would be most British civilians perfect cup of tea. As long as there were bases, there would be Circle agents.

The Circle of Coven was also one of the most dangerous and cautious organizations that I knew about.

I walked steadily but gracefully, down a familiar path. One that I had taken so many months before. I went through an AUTHORIZED PERSONAL ONLY door, took two lefts, three rights, and jumped. I landed softly between more than two-hundred huge, gray and gold-almost rust colored gears. I slowly, but no less determined, navigated through the metallically hazy maze, that could have easily swallowed me whole. After a 5 minute walk around, dodging tubes and gears from the inside of the Big Ben clock, I came exposed to a closed shaft. I precisely pressed my hand against the cold metal frame, and it scanned my left hand. It slowly came alive, and glowed a soft red and opened.

As I took a hidden elevator under ground (the base was underground) I had to undergo a couple of scans. (4 retinal, 3 voice, 2 DNA [blood then hair], and one full-body ) You don't even want to know what would happen if you didn't pass all those test.

To keep it simple you'd die.

A. Slow. Painful. Death. It would probably have something to do with some poisonous gas, a couple of daggers and a ferret or two. And trust me the ferret is the scariest part. I watched the scene before, it was actually kind of . . . funny.

Okay, I'm sorry, that's a lie —it was hilarious!

As I walked down the tunnel I stood tall and straight, with confidence. In a way this was one of my bases. Even besides this little fact, I had to make sure I made a good impression today.

I hadn't been here since last summer. I was wearing a tight pencil skirt, a silk purple top, long pointed boots, and had my hair down. The sound of my heels confronting the ground was the only thing you could hear for miles. The tunnel was creepy and obscure, but kind of my style. I noted that there were old torches hanging on the wall, about 20.51 feet apart from each other. They looked really old, I'm pretty sure they have been hanging there since before the cold war.

Before I get there, let me introduce myself.

My name is Cameron Ann Morgan. I'm 22 years old, and I have been working with the Circle of Coven for 3 years now.

To say the least, I'm at the top of my game. The Circle is one of the most amazing terrorist groups, and we are made of cold hearted killers that always get what we want.

We are the biggest treat to world security and government agencies like CIA, FBI, NSA, NCIS ect.

And they know it.

The most important thing that any of you should know about the Circle of Coven that it is an organization composed almost entirely of other organizations' spies —I'm talking about double agents. Sleeper operatives. That's what makes us so dangerous, you never know who you talking to. Is he your friend or an undercover agent trying to kill you? We have agents —traitors to you— at every level of every major security service in the world.

We could be anywhere . . . . Of course they operate so deeply underground that some agents in the clandestine services think the Circle is nothing but a ghost story; an elaborate legend.

But in the past hundred years alone, I can proudly say that we have been behind at least 5 presidential assassinations - so far- and we've been strong instigators of three wars. We have sold identities of dozens of CIA and MI6 undercover operatives, and we've came closer than anyone outside of the Secret Service will ever know to killing a sitting president of the United States. So make no mistake people, we are very real indeed.

And. We. Are. Your. Worst. Nightmare.

Ioseph Cavan was Irish by birth, and conventional wisdom holds that his followers retreated to his ancestral home after Gillian Gallagher allegedly killed him. But now we have strongholds in every corner of the world. We are large enough to be dangerous, and small enough to slip through cracks.

We are mobile, careful and very highly trained. Double Agents. We excel at isolating and recruiting agents who are young, vulnerable, or both, so in the end we have the best of the best working for us.

**(OGSY Carter 104- 105)**

We are everywhere and can be anyone. We kill anyone we want as long as we get money, and power out of it.

Another body scan, well, you know, scanned me at the entrance. Bight lights illuminated the halls of the base as I entered. I kept walking straight, even though my eyes weren't fully adjusted to the change of light.

I didn't need to see though. I had already memorized the first base floor, the night before at a hotel near by. After a couple of seconds my eyes fully adjusted and I could see my co-workers (and/or enemies) staring at me. Well, actually they were glancing from the corner of their eye, but to me it was kind of obvious. I stood straighter, taller. Shoulders back, chin high, eyes forward, and a smirk held firmly in place on my face. None of these fools could ever think of touching me or reaching even near my level of superiority.

Now before I get too ahead of myself and go on and on about our agencies history, let me start with some of my own history.

Three years ago, I graduated The Firestone Academy for Gifted Young Adults.

Firestone is where in all starts and, it is so isolated and unknown that not even the best government officers in the intelligence branch know it exists. It's the Academy where legacies like me go to; we are trained to kill without a second thought. We make Blackthorne look like a bunch of pansies.

This is where the Circle begins. We breed spies, seductresses, assassins, and double agents which all make up the terrorists in the Circle.

They have several classes like. . .

Covert Operations—

A place in which we learn everything about leading a perfect and successful mission, and then leaving without a trace.

P.E (also known as Protection and Enforcement)—

They teach us different maneuvers -every possible one that you can think of. And no I'm not talking about karate, I'm talking about flips and kicks that kill. They show us that agility, control, coordination, speed, physical and mental strength is all you need to kill someone.

Fast.

A.I.M—

Ammunition & Other Lethal Implicational Methods.

Here we are taught to use knives, guns, swords and, even regular objects like pens to kill people.

Did you know you can easily kill someone with a pen and a rubber band? It just depends how bad you want them dead. You start by having a firm grip on the pen, 4 around it and your thumb on the top end. You firmly grab it and quickly shove it down their throat. You shove it as hard and deep as possible and when you see some internal bleeding, and you hear a subtle "pop" you know that their windpipe broke and that now you can get the rubber band and— well, you get the idea.

Not only do they teach us about every weapon known to man, and their history, they show us how and when to shoot, for the perfect kill. We practiced on everything . . . . Rats, dummies and targets—dead and alive; whether they are human, or plastic. I believe human targets can be such a waste. . . But it's kind of funny to watch their reactions.

Coldhearted? Yea. A bit. Thanks.

Next was I.T—

One of my favorites actually . . . Next to Covert Operations, of course.

I.T stands for Interrogation and Torture Skills. You could probably guess what goes on here. From different interrogation methods to hundreds of different torture tactics.

I would feel sorry for anyone that came to our hands. If you had any information we wanted, you were going to die. You could cooraporate, give us the information we need, and if you were lucky and had a patient person, they would erase your memory and send you back home (actually . . . throw you in a ditch, but it's better than being dead right?).

But most of us would just get rid of you. Quickly. Which is kind of a blessing to you. No pain. You would feel nothing. That's what I usually do. I have no patience for memory tea, or really have any time to do it. So I just get rid of my victims.

Now if you decided you wanted to be stubborn and not tell us anything, we will torture you, kill you slowly, internally, mentally, emotionally, and let's not forget physically as well. _Param-pa! _We'll make you feel useless, like it's your entire fault, that your family doesn't care and need you, or that it's your fault they are hurt. In the end you'll give us all the information we need. It's useless really.

C&A- Culture and Assimilation.

One of the simple classes really. All it teaches are languages —English, Spanish, French, Italian, German, Chinese, Japanese, Latin, Portuguese, Farsi, Russian, Korian, Hindu, and Arabic— and cultures of the world. Even though it's simple, it's highly important. They teach us how to bend in to any situation, culture, country, and religion. It's a matter of life, or death.

Then there are extra classes, like electives you can take that will help you specialize in your department. There's . . . .

—Source Codes I, II and III

—I.T 101

—R.D track

—Double D - (Deceive and Disguise)

—Armory: Inside and Out —but this is just about handling and building armory.

—Skin Skills –Have to do with perfecting the art of seducing

Throughout the years a have been there, I took all of these classes. To say I was the leading valedictorian wasn't really surprising. Yea, I graduated with honors, was known by everyone, hated/loved by them, and had actually killed off a big section of the FBI and framed the Chinese for it. How do I know? Well, World War III almost started. I think that was just another excuse to cover for the USA actually, because we (America) owe China a lot, _a lot _of money. It might have been worth it to start a war. But . . . Whatever.

Anyways besides being at the top of my game, I was also really good with Mr. Vega, the headmaster of the academy. At first it was strictly business, but with time it became more of an . . . . alliance? Yea, that's what I would certainly call it. It all started 5 years ago.

The summer after my junior year, I went on an extracurricular mission for Firestone. While on the minor mission in Africa, a bomb exploded early.

My mission was to capture a small terrorist group called GFA. They were a pain in the ass, and we wanted to get rid of them. Anyway, with the bomb going off early some senior took up my mission because, I was close enough to receive a couple of minor injuries. One in which includes amnesia (memory loss). I was hurriedly brought back home to the academy, and was put to bed rest.

When school started back up I still couldn't remember a single detail about how my life was before grade school. I had a couple of memories from that time, but they were too blurry to really understand.

Either way, I didn't need to know. Mr. Vega and Ms. Goode had already told me everything I needed to know.

Since then the three of us have been really close. I apparently went to Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Woman before, but I quit and transferred over the summer of my junior year, to Firestone. Why you may ask? I apparently found out that my mother, Joseph Solomon, and the CIA had killed my father. I supposedly couldn't handle the betrayal and transferred over, in a way seeking for revenge.

I came to Firestone Academy, and started junior year again. I did this because I needed to learn their ways and their study techniques, but luckily I was advanced enough that I didn't need to start from freshman year, just junior. And even though I was a year older than my grade I apparently fit in very well, and got used to everything well enough. I don't remember anything they thought us at Gallagher Academy, but I knew that I wasted my time there.

I never doubted them and what they told me. You know why? Because they allowed me to look into my Gallagher files. They showed me pictures of my mother and my so-called-friends, even though I didn't recognize them. I did get a major migraine though, trying to remember these people.

Years after I disappeared, the CIA was still looking for me.

Probably trying to kill me for some information they probably think me and my father had —even if I don't remember it anymore. Mr. Vega also said they were after me for a crime I didn't commit. Ridicules. They would never get me or kill me though, I'm a big girl now, and I have the Circle to protect me as well.

I believe him —and Ms. Goode— because, they took care of me and took me under their wings.

I'm a graduate now, I'm 22 years old, I have been working with the CoC for 3 years now. (Graduated at 19 because I had to catch up). And in the past 3 years I have been working with all major Circle bases all around the world.

Things I Knew After Years of Working with Circle of Coven.

Now I knew. . .

—I knew that how to take care of myself.

—I knew how to kill.

—I knew how to get what I want.

—I knew the risks and dangers of the world.

—I knew that if any of those CIA/MI6 people ever get near me I. Will. Kill. Them.

—I knew that even though I don't have my full memory, I didn't need it, because I'm part of the Circle and I was going to get revenge sooner or later.

—And as I carefully navigated through the CoC hallways of the underground base in London, I knew that I was Agent Morgan of Coven.

—When I sat at my desk, looked around to familiarize myself with it, glanced over a hole on my wall, which was engendered by a coffee incident last summer, I knew this was my life now and that nothing and no one who could change it. Not even me if I wanted to.

—And as I picked up the two thick yellow folders that sat on my desk, I knew I had a mission coming up -one that I would enjoy.

A mission that included Joseph Solomon.


	4. The Beginning of The End

Title: **Keep Your Allies Close, But Your Enemies Closer**  
>Category: Books » Gallagher Girls<br>Author: Blind-2the-Eye  
>Language: English, Rating: Rated: T<br>Genre: Adventure/Romance  
>Published: 07-06-11, Updated: 07-27-11<br>Pages: 12, Words: 4,534

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2: The Beginning of The End<strong>

* * *

><p><span>Song of the Chapter: Blow by Kesha <span>

Disclaimer: I don't think I own this . . . Or do I?  
>Bex: Oh bloody hell, no! Don't make me double round house kick you! Take it back!<br>Me: *Sigh* I guess I don't own Gallagher girls. Do I own Zach?  
>Bex: As much as I hate that git, no.<br>Me: Okay, ya'll heard that. I don't own GG or Zach. It all belongs to Ally Carter.

C**h**_A_p**T**3_r_ **2**

_Cameron Pov_

ADW's, Brush Passes, Honey Traps, Legends, and White Coats are just some of the more commonly known and used Buzzwords.

Code words if you will.

If you're a regular civilian, they mean absolutely nothing to you, but if you are an active operative working for a clandestine agency, they are essential. They are code words that not only mask your true purposes as an operative, but can also save your life.

And even through all the code words that I had memorized, and all the languages I learned and could've used, only one word came to mind in that particular time at that particular place, "Shit!"

It was unnaturally hot in the room. Only by a couple more degrees than it was in the lobby though; not by so much that any normal civilian would have noticed, but I did. I took out my sunglasses, and switched them on to the Extreme X-ray Vision setting.

And what I saw was unbelievable.

Lasers. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of them.

It was so cliché.

And stupid.

Not only that, but it was a complete waste of my time.

Not worth my effort.

"Auggie? Care to explain to me why you haven't disabled this crap? Or better yet, to save your time, why can't I just threaten the receptionist to shoot her, get the information, and then shoot her?" I whispered madly at the Comms. Unit in my ear.

"Oh, come on Morgan! Stop being such a Che—," He absurdly stopped as I interrupted.

"I am not! Nor have I ever been, or will be for that matter, a _Cherry_." I replied my plain disgust with the word made obvious.

I knew he was just teasing, but I couldn't help and instantly glare at one of the surveillance cameras I had on, this one just happened to be in a form of a necklace and was hanging around my neck, just so he could see my anger.

Couldn't he see in what of an impossible and dangerous situation I was in? He was sitting comfortably, in a fluffy chair thousands of miles away, damn it! This was probably his next form of entertainment.

Not that I couldn't do this. I'm one of the best Circle Agents of the century; of course I could do it.

It would just take time, patience, and coordination, but right now, I didn't have a single speck of any of that inside my body. I wanted –no, _needed_— to get this minor mission done as soon as possible. This ridiculous security wasn't helping me at all; it was making me impatient and unhappy. And I was pretty sure I was succeeding at making that as plain as day to him.

But even through my little tantrum, he only chuckled and continued, "Well, then, stop acting like one! You need to Close this Contract, but with the target not her, and before you sign this deal, you need to get his 201 file, which will help, with greatness to the Circle. You need to be as covert as possible; you cannot afford to be Burned on this mission." As he reviewed yet again, my mission objective, one I wished and desired to throw out the window, but I smirked to myself and said coyly, "Have I ever been compromised?"

And with that stated, I ran toward the maze of death. One in which if I committed one false move, I would end up being chopped up in little stake pieces.

I ran and did an aerial cartwheel, swiftly landing on my feet with a soft thump.

_I have to find the easiest way out of here,_ I thought, frustrated.

There were so many beams of red light everywhere. They were going vertically, horizontally, and diagonally in every direction, in every piece of space, and in various levels. But I was determined to do this. My next assignment or mission was against Solomon, and my partner was already there.

_Can't let him have all the fun of Burning Solomon, now can I? _I smirked at my thought, tied up my hair in a tight bun, and secured my sunglasses so they wouldn't fall off.

"Here goes nothing Auggie," I whispered to my ear piece.

Front flip. Kip-Up. Summer Soult. I barely registered all the gymnastic moves I was doing to get to the other side of the damn room. I did a back flip and then a handstand in my moment of hesitation of where to go next. Then as I saw an entry, I did a swift cartwheel to my right, and a handspring. I was suddenly glad I had taken that extra credit class at the last minute in FireStone.

_Okay, breathe! Half way through. _I lost count of all the flips and turns I did as beats of sweat started to appear in my forehead.

My heart was racing as I did a Cheat 720 twist, another handstand, and then the Xuanflngjiao kick, but I didn't have enough momentum, and I lost my balance, falling on the hard concrete floor —flat on my back. A grunt escaped my lips as I turned my head, and saw a laser no less than half an inch away. I closed my eyes tightly for a second to concentrate_,_ and then twisted around to lay flat on my stomach. After that, I rolled to the left, and went right under the beam. I slowly kneeled, and looked around the room for lasers with wide, observant eyes. I ran another short distance and then did another, now graceful, Xuanflngjiao flip, and finally ended the maze with a handspring. I looked back at the maze, triumphant, and let a breath —that I didn't know I was holding— out.

_Finally! _I yelled in my mind.

I pressed in a seven digit password, that I stole from the secretary, into the passkey that was blocking my entrance to the file room.

And in the few seconds that the machine took to register the code, I steadied my breathing, wiped the sweat off my forehead, pulled the rubber band out of my hair, and then swiftly shook it out. I had to _at least_ **appear** like I didn't just break into a CIA base.

Yea, I just infiltrated a base —I small one in Texas— but I felt a sense of pride in myself for getting this far without getting caught. Yet. I wasn't done yet. I kept that in my mind before I started to celebrate.

As I looked around the file room, I noticed that there was a finger scanner on top of each of the filling cabinet. Smart, but it would also make my file stealing a little harder. That all changed though, as soon as I also spotted another agent in the corner of the room.

You would think that this agent would just make my mission objective harder to complete, but I liked to take advantage of every single aspect of every opportunity around me. As soon as he heard my footsteps, he turned around and looked at me. I put up my walls, my poker face, and gave him a bright and fake smile. He hesitantly smiled back, and then looked at my badge. He obviously didn't recognize me, he was making sure I was a real operative, and as soon as I noticed this I was internally thanking Auggie for making me a fake one.

I initiated conversation and said brightly, "Hi, my name is Jessica."

I stretched my hand out to the scrawny guy in front of me, to shake. He was five feet six, kind of short in my opinion, Caucasian, with black shaggy hair, and thick black glasses. He looked like a Research and Development track operative.

I smiled, and continued the conversation after he released my hand, "Can you fix my phone? I accidentally blocked it, and I can't figure it out. I'm not so good with technology, but you look pretty smart. Do you think . . . ? Can you . . . ?" I left the question hanging, looked under my eyelashes, as held out my phone to him.

He nodded and eagerly took my phone, "Sure, my pleasure! My name is Cody, by the way. Are you new here? I haven't seen you around."

I nodded and smiled. Later, I thanked him when he was done, and watched as he quietly left the room.

"What was that about? He doesn't look like your type, honey—dearest," said Auggie in my ear. I let out a dry laugh at his teasing.

For some reason he was the only one that wasn't afraid of me, the only one who teased me, and the only one that I wasn't completely hostile toward. I don't know why. Our relationship is different; weird. Not in a boyfriend-girlfriend way, because please, even though he looks like he's in his late twenties I know for certain he's around forty-three. I'm an operative for Pete's sake!

But, not even my boyfriend and I have this . . . thing. I'm guessing it's because Auggie and I spend so much time together. He's like the father figure I never had —beside Mr. Vega of course. He's literally the voice in my head and ear telling me the best advice, and routes to survive. And because of his non-fear towards me, I had a high respect for him. One that I knew would last forever, and help me a lot in life. As cliché as it sounds.

So, to him I answered, "Really? I thought he was the one!" in a high pitched voice. I was pretty sure you could literally see the sarcasm just dripping from my voice as I rolled my eyes, and smirked. I took out my green Listerine mint strip package, and pressed the strip to the sensitive touch screen on my phone, just as he said, "What are you doing? That will never work you know? It's absurd and highly improbab—"

He was suddenly stopped as he watched me work my magic. I had never tried this before, but I trusted my gut. I never liked these mint strips because they always stuck to my fingers. I guess that was what gave me the idea to take one out, gently place it on the screen of my phone (where you could clearly see the guy's leftover finger prints), pull the strip off, place it into my finger, and then gracefully place it onto the finger scanner.

I couldn't keep the smirk off my face as the finger scanner turned green, and unlocked all cabinets as it recognized Cody's fingerprint. I then took out Jonathan Gray's 201 files. And after that I jumped into the air ducts (I was NOT going to go back and _Redo_ all that let's-go-through-the-Fun-Maze-of-Death-Crap, because even though my badge _looked_ _real_, it for a fact did not _scan_ like a real one, so I would have defiantly have to do all that maze jumping non-sense again.) took a shorter root to the exit, and ran away from CIA base, all the while I couldn't help, but laugh at how Auggie's face probably looked like considering his speechlessness for the past couple of minutes.

"What were you saying Auggie?"

"Jonathan Gray lives 21 miles away from the previous Area of Operations. Take a taxi to 15123 Boone Dr., search his house, interrogate him, and then commence Cauterization. Got it?" he replied smoothly, trying, and failing to change the subject.

"Sure, sure. _Auggie_. Do I have permission to do it in a non-covert way?"

"The Circle really doesn't care, as long as you Close the Contract . . ."

"Got it . . . Taxi!"

I entered the ancient taxi, repeated the address, and paid him when I reached my destination. I laughed. This asset of ours lived in an ugly brown-washed Trailer home —the ones that kind of look like PT's?—, I guess you could call it a portable home on wheels.

Why would he live there though? When he was a high paying agent from the Circle? I have no idea.

Jonathan Gray was a minor asset of ours that worked at the CIA, but really he was a double agent who gathered their information, and leaked it to us.

Apparently, it was all going well for him (he was paid big bucks by both agencies as I said before), but his cover was blown by a CIA operative who tailed him, found out he was brush passing with an "unknown" agent, and eventually figured out he was leaking information with another organization, one who "could be a possible threat to national security".

They didn't know how right they were. They were dealing with one of the biggest terrorist organizations in the world.

How do I come in this? Well, when Jonathan realized he was being tailed by one of his co-workers, he ran. Went under the radar, and is hiding in this trailer dump as we speak. Now, the issue is that even though the CIA doesn't know who he has been trading information with, they aren't going to stop until they do. Lousy agency, I swear those people can't control their curiosity.

It will kill them eventually.

My job is to get to him before CIA, see if he has any extra information, and then kill him. We don't need CIA to be tipped off that the Circle is getting stronger, or that we have enemy agents in their turf. Jonathan Gray is a loose end that I needed to cut off.

I had already taken his 201 files from the CIA base, now I just had to kill him.

"Okay, Miss Morgan, knock on his door four times really fast, cough, knock two more times slowly, and then say, 'Hello? Anyone home? I'm sorry, my car has a flat. Can I please use your phone to call a pick up truck?' Got it? He should know it's CoC." Auggie explained slowly and clearly in my ear. I just rolled my eyes at this tone, but followed his instructions exactly.

A tall, tan man, with a 5 o' clock shadow, whom appeared to be in his early thirties, answered the door. A black and white that was attached in my mission folder from earlier today, flashed through my mind —this was my guy.

"Hurry! Come in!" he hissed in a low voice, and roughly pushed me through the door.

_Stupid asshole_, I thought. _He underestimates me. . . This should be fun._

"Follow protocol, Morgan. That way this will all be done faster," said Auggie in my ear, probably guessing what I was thinking. Damn! Okay . . . here goes nothing.

"Good evening sir, do you have any new Intel for us?" I spoke roughly, lazily actually, while distractively looking around.

"No, but I have something else for you . . ."

I swiftly turned around as I heard his news, and just as I did, his fist connected, roughly, with my chin. I was shocked by the sudden hostile behavior, and scattered a few steps back.

"Oh! Hell is going to break loose!" I heard Auggie whisper madly into my Comms. Unit.

I circled Jonathan around the kitchen table, observing his every move like a predator does to his pray, I asked, almost silently, "Permission to initiate Cauterization?"

"Cameron, if I were there . . . I wouldn't have waited for permission. I'm going to burn his fucking balls off for touching my girl. Granted."

And as he said that, I couldn't help, but let my smirk get bigger. I'm pretty sure that evil glint in my eyes became more profound, because for a total of 3.37 seconds, his face showed pure terror. And just as he got his poker face back on, I jumped; well more like glided, across the table, grabbed the glass vase with a simple flower setting, and knocked it over his head (or face)-breaking not only the vase, but his nose as well.

I always hated does movies where they just went around and around the table.

I had neither the patience, or time for it.

Something new is refreshing, isn't it?

As much as I wished that _that_ was all it would take to kill him, and then leave for my next mission . . . I never seemed to be that lucky.

He swiped my feet from under me, and as I fell to the ground, the idiot kicked my side.

"This is your entire fault, you stupid bitch!" he yelled angrily at me through a grunt. Just as he was about to raise his foot to yet again, kick my side, instead of rolling away from him, I rolled into him —affectively knocking him down to the floor. At that exact same time his young cocker spaniel puppy appeared out of nowhere, and started barking. We both ignored her, as we glared at each other.

I jumped to my feet, and yelled with authority, "Jonathan! What is wrong with you? I'm with the Circle!"

"I know," he responded gruffly, "You ruined my life! I have to go into hiding, and it's All. Because. Of. You!" He said each word like if it was its own sentence, and each time he did, he would swing out his arms in a failed attempt to either punch me, or grab me. _Like Hell!_, I thought in my head.

"Of what you Stand for~!" he continued.

But I couldn't have cared less as I swiftly and expertly dodge all of his swings, until the perfect moment. When it finally did come, I grabbed his fist, twisted his hand, and then flipped him over my shoulder, and onto his living room coffee table. Poor thing, it obviously couldn't handle his weight as I watched it brake. He was no slacker though, he was a trained assassin for the Circle of Cavan, and even though he had gone completely mad, he still managed to use and live in every second he got.

So after the initial shock of being flipped over by a woman half his size, he used all his body weight, and kicked my torso with both of his legs, causing me to crash against his window. As I gently winced, feeling every single piece of glass burn and cut into my shoulders, arms, and lower back, I still managed to not fall through the window by holding on, clumsily, to the washed out- purple- curtains. And even through the immense pain I was going through, I was more determined now than ever. He. Was. Going. To. Die.

About 2.5 seconds later, I was fully standing, taking the whole curtains off the wall, and using the white poll to beat my enemy agent with it.

It was only a matter of time before something changed. Only a matter of time until something completely different happened to our situation.

And I was right. As always.

Not five seconds later, he ran.

Ran towards the other direction.

Ran from our fight, crossed a long hallway, and went in to what I guessed would be his room. Did he honestly think he could runaway from me? That he could hide from the Circle?

Well, I had a really bad feeling about it.

So I jacked his phone, and started to run to the opposite direction from his room to the front exit, instead of running after him like he probably wanted. I had to follow my intuition, so I ran towards my car.

"What are you doing?" Auggie hissed in my ear, "The operation is still game!"

"He is completely crazy! And I have a really bad feeling about this." I yelled back at him, there was no point in hiding the Comms. Unit now, in this situation.

And as soon as I said that, bullets started to pierce the air.

I dove into the air and landed right in front my car, barely missing the first 9 bullets he shot at me. I threw opened the passenger door, jumped in the car, and landed lying across both seats. I covered my head as he shot his next half a dozen bullets, and I felt the next pieces of glass falling into my bare, bloody shoulders as his bullets penetrated and pierced through the front glass shield of my car.

_Shit! _I thought. _Doesn't anyone else notice this crap? _I grabbed my gun, and knelt behind my passenger door, using it as a shield for his bullets.

What I saw next incredibly stupefied me into speechlessness.

Jonathan Gray was standing there, at his front door, with his cocker spaniel puppy yapping at his side, holding an intense, military, shot gun. It was really a sight so see. Not only was it overly dramatic, but it was just for me! Was I really that big of a threat?

Well, I was honored!

And just like that, I came up with a plan. Why not a simple, yet overly dramatic death for him?

I put my thumb and index finger in the tip of my mouth, and blew a cold, loud and sharp whistle.

And just as I expected, his little puppy ran eagerly towards me, and jumped into my car. Whether you believe it or not, I do have a heart. A cold, black one with spikes, but it's still there. And I would feel kind of horrible if this puppy went through the current situation I was about to put his owner in. Well . . . not _horrible _or _terrible, _or _bad at all _actually. I would love to see puppy guts, but I just had a feeling I was going to use this puppy sooner or later. I closed the passenger door with a bang, my lovely new pet looking as happy as ever there.

"No!" I heard Jonathan yell fifty feet away from me, as he shot another half a dozen bullets. I couldn't help but feel sorry for the guy, an agent compromised by the CIA is one thing, but being emotionally compromised by yourself, is just . . . in a word . . . pathetic.

I climbed to the driver seat, put on my seatbelt and quickly started the engine. But as I did, I could feel _not only_ my warm blood smear against the plastic cover of my seat, but I could also feel the little glass pieces sink and scratch by skin, just a little deeper. And just like that, my anger flared once again. _Son of a . . . he totally deserves what's coming for him, _I thought, smirking.

"I don't even want to know what you are going to do. You have a pretty scary face on." Whispered the voice inside my head.

"Scared of me already, Auggie?" I chuckled and dramatically sighed —well, as much as one can, while dodging bullets— "And I thought you were different . . ." I continued.

"You wish." Was his cocky reply.

I backed out of Jonathan's driveway and teased him by driving a couple of feet away, pretending to leave, but in reality . . . I wasn't leaving this mission before finishing off my prey. I eagerly backed up, lowered what was left of the passenger's side window, (Man, he really had bad aim!) and fired a shot.

The shot.

The one and only shot that would end his life.

The one that he didn't see coming.

Maybe it was because it was too fast. Maybe it was because it was unexpected. Maybe it was because the shot never made contact with his heart. Or head. Or any part of his body actually. Maybe it was because the shot landed about twenty-seven feet away from where Jonathan Gray was even standing at.

Did I miss? You ask.

Never.

I had hit my target in the dead center.

As I rounded the corner, and my bullet soared through the air, all I could think was, _this place is about to blow!_

Because 4.15 seconds later, my bullet made contact, and hit dead center in the huge gasoline tank on the other side of the Trailer house.

And as it did, the house and everything about 48 feet radius of it, exploded.

I couldn't help but think, as I raced out of there

_Solomon, your next!_

* * *

><p><strong>201 Files<strong>: The official file of a CIA operative  
><strong>Burned<strong>: When an operative is compromised or identified  
><strong>Cauterization<strong>: elimination a previous asset or source who is compromised  
><strong>Close a contract<strong>: An assassination  
><strong>Cherry<strong>: an inexperienced CIA agent

* * *

><p><strong>Review for sneak Peek<strong>


	5. Face Behind The Mask

Title: **Keep Your Allies Close, But Your Enemies Closer**  
>Category: Books » Gallagher Girls<br>Author: Blind-2the-Eye  
>Language: English, Rating: Rated: T<br>Genre: Adventure/Romance  
>Published: 07-06-11, Updated: 04-7-12<br>Pages: 8, Words: 2,458

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3: Face Behind The Mask<strong>

* * *

><p><span>Song of The Chapter: Lado Este by Sara Venezuela<span>

Disclaimer: Disclaimed.

**C**_h_**A**_p__**t**_**3**R **3**

_Cameron Pov_

**Name:** Joseph Solomon  
><strong>D.O.B. (Date Of Birth):<strong> June 21st, 1974  
><strong>P.O.B. (Place Of Birth):<strong> Pittsfield, Massachusetts.  
><strong>Family-<strong>  
><strong>Spouse: <strong>N/A**  
>Children: <strong>N/A  
><strong>Other:<strong> Legal Guardian of Zachary Jared Goode  
><strong>Ethnic Background:<strong> American, Caucasian-White  
><strong>Description:<strong> Black eyes, Square face, dark hair, and six feet and two inches tall. (Picture Attached)  
><strong>Education:<strong> Blackthorne Academy  
><strong>JobOccupation:** Worked for the Clandestine Services at the Central Intelligence Agency as a Coverts Officer for 19 Years while working as a Double Agent in the Circle of Cavan. (Started as Circle Agent since age 15 at Blackthorne)  
><strong>Status:<strong> KIA

**Mission Assignment: **A reliable Circle agent has received new Intel over the current Status of Joseph Solomon that severally contradicts our files. Research, hack, stalk, torture, and use any other means necessary to find and follow all leads in order to capture The Subject. Extensive details will be given at 1050 hours in my office. No protocol.

With one last glance to my file, I threw it into a cabinet, and closed it. Automatically locking it. Only a handprint could open that damn thing. It was exactly 701 hours so I had a couple of hours to kill. Not literally of course. But then… I could… In the interrogation rooms… Eh, maybe later. I finally decided to go to the shooting range and let my heart out into the cold sound of the bullets soaring into the air, making contact with a creature, and then hearing the pleasurable sound of it screeching and crying in pain.

* * *

><p><em>Whoosh<em>

The steady flowing of water from the faucet down the drain, in the sink of the bathroom, soothed me as I washed my face and applied a new one.

I quietly chuckled to myself. I weren't… well, me, and worked were I do now, I would have probably thought that that last sentence was kind of… bizarre.

But, the thing is that, that was exactly what I was doing. Under the mild florescent lights of the hotel bathroom, I was changing, my body, my face, and myself. I was preparing to become…someone else. And about half an hour later I didn't have the ever changing color eyes, the brown wavy hair, and I wasn't the amazingly scary Circle operative I usually was.

I was Kate Hallowell, age 21, with pin straight blond hair, with a straight bang that laid across my forehead, blue eyes, and a dash of freckles that was dusted across my nose and cheekbones. I had 3 inches magically taken off my height, as well. I was now left handed, allergic to peanuts, had a slight southern accent, and loved taking pictures.

I was indeed, a pretty famous photographer here in Jasper, Texas.

That's were I was, here, now. Why? My target was here as well.

This Joe Solomon wasn't terrible looking, if he didn't have those wrinkles around his eyes- signifying that he was of an older age- he could have been easily my type.

There was also the tiny, unforgettable fact that he… kinda sorta… killed my father.

Kind of makes you hate a person's guts, don't you think?

He was aware of everything- he performed so many techniques that it was almost _impossible_ to not get caught. I was always fast enough though; I got my name and reputation from somewhere you know.

He was smart- he had several operatives in multiple hidden locations, and in different areas and levels around him. Some were on top roofs, some were watching from apartment windows, and others were purposely active as civilians, always tailing him, and never not far behind from wherever his current location was at the time. _At least_ nine people were surveilling him on the ground right now, trying to keep him safe. Who did he think he was? The president of the United States? It would have been impossible to take him out unnoticed.

But he was strange- I spotted him going into the most unlikely place ever, Church. He was kneeling, praying intensively for something or someone.

His fiancé or what I presumed to be fiancé, considering she was wearing an engagement ring and was holding his hand, was sitting right next to him. And you knew the ring had to be real, and not just a part of another cover considering the fact that you could almost feel the love radiating from their bodies.

And I felt like gagging from it.

It was just so reckless, and stupid to love someone in the clandestine services, nonetheless the circle industry. A partner could have easily get you killed. How could you have ever been one hundred percent sure that they weren't honey potting you? That they weren't sent by a higher power to get rid of you? Quickly?

God knows I have done that more than enough times to count.

And how could anyone trust another human being, much less an assassin, that much? How could you trust anyone besides yourself, at all?

You shouldn't.

Period.

Okay forget about the honey0potting, even though that's a very likely situation that can happen to anyone, how could you handle the dangers? The threats? Towards yourself? Towards your lover? I'm happy I don't have any family, because this applies to them too. Your enemies- or allies for that matter (what did I say about that trust thing?)— could use them against you.

She would be your only weakness, the only was to get to you, and vicevesa. Anyone would do anything to get to your partner, to kill them, because murdering them, or threatening to murder them would be your only weakness. It could cause you to sway in their direction, to leak information to them; I would be an easier way to torture you.

Everyone- even God- knows I have done _that_, more times than necessary.

Take it from someone with experience. It's fun to hold that type of power over someone.

Thrilling, almost, to watch the life die from their eyes before their even dead.

It seems as though, even between our two wars in our secret world, that's the only major difference. They believe it's worth it, and we think it's stupid. That it should only be used when most convenient. So… their does seem to be an exact reason to pin point why we are winning this on-going war of good versus evil.

I rolled my eyes at the couple and slowly moved to the back row in the left side of the church. It wasn't huge and elegant, but polite, petite, and pretty.

Again, smart choice for the man.

It was secluded and unknown, totally private and unsearchable. Nothing bad could happen here, and even if it did, it would never get unnoticed.

Damn, I always hated these small towns; they were too quiet and friendly. Everyone knew each other and could tell if you were an outsider.

New York, USA,- Venice, Italy,- Caracas, Venezuela and big cities like that always seemed to be more of my taste. There were always more crowds, more problems, more noise, and more ways to blend into society unnoticed.

Either way, I was quiet, I stood when they stood, I knelt when they knelt, and even shed a few tears in my "remorseful" face when everyone prayed. I wasn't even listening or paying attention, I was just following instinct.

Finally, the time came when everyone stood to leave. It was quite packed in the small room, so it went kindly unnoticed once I dipped my hand into the holy water, and did that cross sign like everyone else, that I brushed-past my targets successfully implanting a stick-on tracker on their shoulders or hands. It didn't really matter where considering it blended with your skin color.

I couldn't help but smirk as he, his lover, and his guard went into the bathroom to change appearance, because it wouldn't matter if they went through 27 different covers and skins, I would still know where every single one of them where. Even if Solomon himself unconsciously took of the tracker, the other two would eventually lead me back to him. It was obvious that even the bodyguard was close to him.

Almost like a son.

It took all of me not to laugh, once I saw the green dots in my watch indicate to me that they had come out of the bathroom.

The short red head of a woman change her appearance and was now a sleek, tall brunet. Instead of having blue eyes, green eyes took their place; Instead of having jeans and along sleeve shirt, now she was wearing a flirty skirt and tank top.

The bodyguard -or as I would like to call him now, Boob Numero Uno- was wearing a blue hoodie and some black saggy jeans, giving of the impression that he was a teenager.

Not that he couldn't totally pull it off; he had to be around my age- twenty-two, twenty-three? No more than twenty-three, of course. It was totally different though, because if you had seen him before he entered the bathroom, anyone normal could've sworn he was in a tux and had black gelled up hair—giving you that impression that he was in his late twenties. But no, now he was a completely new person, with new attitude and natural brown hair. Even through his hoodie, you could still see that he had a strong built.

Yummy.

Next was Solomon, who I wouldn't have in anyway identified him if it wasn't for my tracker. Instead of the black slacks, button up shirt, and saggy hair, he was now wearing a loose indigo shirt, jeans, and was bald.

Holy crap, these people were good.

The only hair that he had was around and in his ears, his eyebrows, and new mustache. Instead of walking straight, and confident; he walked with a limp. Agent Solomon looked around the age 53! I had to give these people some props—they were good.

Too bad I was better, I was raised by a Goode.

So, instead tailing them around the whole town, dodging multiple strategies and techniques that they would have thrown at me to actually catch their tails —moves, I tell you, that are nearly impossible to escape from—I, unlike any other normal agent, thought of something better to do.

I went to Starbucks.

I was feeling so stressed out that afternoon, I had stayed up half the night with my partner, 7 other operatives, and 50 cameras that were placed all over the tri-state area to find an irregularity, or Joe Solomon himself for that matter.

It was almost too easy! The target's fiancé was apparently, at 3:57am, doing a perimeter check.

Okay, it wasn't as easy as her just walking around the corner and being caught by one of our surveillance cameras. It was a little… more complicated than that. For starters, she was wearing all black and moving beneath the shadows- my kind of girl. It was so hard to spot her- you could tell she had a lot of experience in the clandestine services. It looked as if she was dancing with the shadows and the evil sprits that lay within them. But as soon as I did spot her, I pointed at her, jumped from my seat, anger radiating me, and ran toward the door.

I had stayed up all night for one of them to slip, why couldn't they have done it any faster? I treasured my sleep, damn it!

And right as I reached the door, a firm hand stopped me, and hissed out through his teeth, "What do you think you are doing? Trying to get us compromised? Sloppy, much?" but as much as he was my "partner" in this mission –and in real life, for that matter-, I just pressed one of his weaker pressure points in his arm and, walked around him and through the door.

He was right of course; I couldn't kill the lady, because of the lack sleep she caused me. Our targets would get suspicious, and then flee. We were too close to let that happen.

So, at 4:45 am, I, Cameron Ann Morgan of Cavan, to let off some of my fucking steam did a perimeter check. Just likes she did. And I discovered the hotel that they were staying at.

Who said my anger wouldn't lead to anything?

In the end, that leaded us to them, they lead us to the church, which eventually lead me here.

At Starbucks.

With my double chocolate mocha.

And I couldn't have felt better.

My coffee was hot, my ego was big, and my lover just walked in through the door.

As his green eyes met my blue ones ( I was still wearing Kate's contacts) I couldn't help but realize…

That behind our masks, Solomon will never know the legacies that were about to make him meet his end.

* * *

><p><strong>Review for Sneak Peek to Next Chapter.<strong>

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**Thanks, Blind-2the-Eye **


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